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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22390489">Snow Over Lava Redux</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmuttySkitty/pseuds/SmuttySkitty'>SmuttySkitty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red vs. Blue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Gore, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Split-Personaltiy, rewritten</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:53:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,341</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22390489</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmuttySkitty/pseuds/SmuttySkitty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>During the time The Director was starting to invest more into what he could do into Alpha, he had another project. No one knew what was on the haunted side of the ship, much less ever go there; reading of no life support kept everyone away. After a long night of drinking with friends Agent Maine and Agent Washington wander down the wrong halls and start to see a side of Project Freelancer they were not told about.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Agent Carolina &amp; The Meta | Agent Maine, Agent Carolina/Agent York (Red vs. Blue), The Meta | Agent Maine &amp; Agent Washington, The Meta | Agent Maine &amp; Agent York, The Meta | Agent Maine/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Snow Over Lava Redux</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Are you sure you want her, sir?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Her scores are </span>
  <span>exceptionally </span>
  <span>high for someone her age. I want her to be one of my agents.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But sir, she has medical conditions that are stopping her from being fit for duty; she’s unfit to be in the squad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter, for what I have planned for her; she doesn’t need a squad. All I have seen so far is that a squad is holding her back. I want her.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes sir, I will go get the transfer paperwork. Just know sir, she is still just a child.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go get me the paperwork.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes sir.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>⁂</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A cough; a wheeze for air, the hazy headache that’s slowly starting to take over one’s vision, the tiny spots of red dripping off the dangling armored feet, the thundering roar echoing from their heart, a javelin sticking out from under the hard armor; right in the soft kevlar lining. A thick foam fills the wound around the steel, pushing out and down the leg. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>So did I fail the test</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Can I get some rest now, sir?” A soft clipped voice broadcasts from the helmet of this bleeding and pinned to a wall. Their head rolls ever so slightly in an attempt to ease the pounding behind their unseen eyes before moving back to the more upright posture despite the armor and the pain.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, reset the field and do it again, Agent!” This voice booms overhead, a little too loud for the armored one who winces at the volume; there is another voice but it’s much too soft to be picked up for the microphone as if the speaker is behind the first, though to the armored one there’s no voice beyond the first. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hate to tell you this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, butttt I can’t lift my arms. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t really even feel my fingers</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sir</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” This time there is a mix of sarcasm and pain, but still rather clipped. The armored one tries to lift their arms but barely manage to even shrug, much less than lifting. The softer voice from before is louder now but the pain is drowning out any noise but the roar of their heartbeat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;I don’t want to die. </span>
  </em>
  <b>We won’t die, I won’t let us</b>
  <b>
    <em>.</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>&gt; </span>
  </em>
  <span>There are more voices echoing around the armored one but the pain and roaring in their ears is blocking it all out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir, we have to stop. She’s going to pass out from blood loss, she’s already delusional from the newest test we ran. She needs a break!” A woman stands in front of the glass on the deck above, trying to block view of the floor from the much taller than her man. She puts her hands on her hips trying to look as imposing as she can for all that he can see right over her head, but he does cast his eyes downwards to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why should I take your word, Meemee? You’re not my head medic, just her trainee. You have no idea what you are doing, messing with this test.” He squares his shoulders and grins. “Start the test again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir! We can not continue testing, she’s out cold from blood loss!” This voice comes from the floor below, belonging to another medic. The man grumbles from under his breath and walks away, waving his hand to signal that the test is over. Meemee looks out to the test floor to the bleeding agent- whom is no longer pinned to the wall but now getting treated by one of the healing bots. Meemee hated seeing that poor girl suffer like that, never knowing what was really going on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good luck Little One.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>⁂⁂</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A woman sits under the large window as the stars smear past; she shifts and sigh deeply as the wrappings loosen slightly around her chest. Her flame colored hair was pulled into a braided bun, just enough to keep it from getting caught in the glue and messing up the coloring. She sighed again softly, it was quite like it always is; no one else is ever on this ship, or at least she thinks there is no one is there. Her meals are left at the end of the hall, the medic that treated her wounds was a bot, and her missions came to her over her helm. She never minded it, it's not like she didn't have anyone to talk to or even things to do. She grumbles under her suddenly shorter breath as the ship rumbles out of warp, causing it to shake and send her pastels to the ground and cracking a few.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn, those cost a pretty penny…</span>
  </em>
  <span> It's ok, we can get new ones next time I find the request form..if they even let us have it again.” The woman slides off her seat to the floor, picking up the fallen pastels and smearing some of the dust onto the wrappings. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You know they won’t ever let us have that stupid form, you know they are keeping us from others, we are trapped here.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She sighed loudly, agreeing with the voice both hers and unlike hers that emanated from her own mouth. She’s used to this, it's been like this since she was small. She leans back and grabs the open sketch book, it slips from her hands and lands faceup and open to a smear drawing of a white armored being with a helm of gold. Behind this being is the stars and red shape that if she squints could make out as another being but more human looking. She stares at it before taking one of the broken pastels; adding two small dark marks to the armor’s chest. “There, now it feels done. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Are you sure? You said that before when you added the red smudge. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yeah, something about it feels like it's really the ending for this one. I wonder who they are.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>⁂⁂⁂</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maine holds Washington up under his arm, nearly lifting him off his feet. Maine was nearly a foot and a half taller than Washington and it really showed whenever this happened. Wash drank too much after a long mission and was nearly out and stumbling along as Maine all but dragged him along.He had no idea where he was much less how to get back, Maine might of had a few drinks but it would take so much more to get him drunk but this was still strange. It felt like he was in a new part of the ship, it was so much more colorful than the cold steel walls he was used too. There was soft paintings of almost random things, flowers and trees but one makes him stop and stare. It's a pastel sketch of simulation troopers, 12 altogether; but he swear one of them looks like Wash and the other like Carolina. He sits Wash down and makes sure Wash won’t fall over before walking farther down the hall to see more works like that one but sometimes it's in paint, other ones are etched into the metal. He stops to stare at one before turning to see that Wash has puked and out cold. He walks back, lifting Wash and trying again to make it back to their chambers on the ship. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe I’ll back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>⁂⁂⁂⁂</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>Notifications wake an older man of color from his mildly restless sleep, his tablet still going off before falling quiet. He rolls over and checks it, the motion tracking cameras had been set off from their motion triggers. He opens the app to see Wash leaning on a wall with Maine walking away from him. Aiden smirks as he watches Maine look at the drawings on the wall. </span>
  <em>
    <span>&lt;This will be good for her, maybe this study might have something to go on now.&gt; </span>
  </em>
  <span>He smirks as the file is deleted from F.L.I.S.S. while being backed up onto his datapad, Leonard doesn’t need to know about this little event; in fact it might even give them better results in the long run. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I know there is another Fic with the name in the RVB fandom..its mine. I removed the old one that was on here just the other day so that this one can shine on its own, its a full rewriting of the old one and I plan on making it much better then it was before with a lot more help from friends reading and editing it. Plus now the first chapter feels like a first chapter and not a one shot that turned into something more. </p>
<p>Thank You for reading!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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